


Whispers in the Dark

by MrsQwerty



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Antichrist, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dark!Crowley, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Footnotes, Heaven & Hell, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Judaism, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Mystery, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Obsession, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Pining, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Slow Burn, angels & demons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-07-08 01:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19861504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsQwerty/pseuds/MrsQwerty
Summary: "He never was the type to be satisfied by the half of it and every smile or soft touch of the angel was like a flame to an arsonist, and the demon always loved to play with fire."Or: Crowley is secretly working for Beelzebub and pining after his angel, a prophecy about a second Anticrist emerges and Aziraphale and Anathema may or may not be successful at detective work.





	1. The Moth and the Flame

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a story with plot, slow burn and much angst, because I am a sucker for those things and I think the relationship of Crowley and Aziraphale has so much potential for that. So buckle up, I'm here for the long run. The chapter title is from the song "The Moth & the Flame" by Les Deux Orchestra.
> 
> I do not have a beta and English isn't my native tongue, so if you see mistakes please tell me so I can correct it.
> 
> All characters of Good Omens belong to the creators Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, I am just borrowing them for this story.

_For_ _they_ _are_ _spirits_ _of_ _demons_ , _performing signs, which go out to the kings of the whole world, to gather them together for the great war of the great day of god, the Almighty_

**Revelation**

The angel Aziraphale was in his bookshop in Soho, surrounded by his most precious objects. For the heavenly being the books weren't just books, they were works of art created by god's children, who shared their beliefs, their innermost thoughts, ideas and wishes with the world and let the angel understand how god’s creation saw their own existence and their place in this world. Crowley always laughed fondly about Aziraphale's obsession, but in contrast to the demon he was never one to ask many questions – it was not a thing a principality of the lord would do and it defied everything an angel stands for – at least he tried to convince himself he could still be that kind of angel. Therefore, the angel tried to learn things about humanity and the world via the written word. Books didn't lie or conceal truths, at least not for their writers: It was their narrative, their view of the world .. and it was responsible for the way they acted, felt and lived. There of course always were books Aziraphale didn't like as much as others, but he handled them regardless with respect and the utmost care. Except on one occasion, when Crowley read him (after an evening full of wine, where both were more than just a little bit drunk) from a book named _Fifty shades of Grey_ and he was so shocked and flustered that he snatched the book out of the demons hand and burned it on the spot. Crowley’s laughter follows him since then and always turns his head bright red when customers ask about modern literature. The demon was sometimes truly evil.

Well, he wouldn't fall if he questioned humans about their world view instead of reading their books, but he couldn't trust himself to stop there, especially not after the Almostgeddon. The event showed him how thin the line he was walking on truly was and how fragile his trust in god's plan already became. He felt like standing on a cliff and one step in the wrong direction would send him into the abyss. What would become of him after a fall? Would the abyss change him into something unrecognizable? Would he still be Aziraphale or someone else? The best choice for answering those questions was Crowley, but the fallen angel didn't seem to be keen talking about that special topic. And that dilemma didn't include his complicated feelings about their undefined relationship, something he always tried to keep from his mind because it left him confused and feeling almost insecure. 

Since the Almostgeddon many things had changed and not always for the better. Yes, they were currently free of heaven and hell’s close observations, but instead of enjoying each other’s company without feelings of betrayal and guilt, Crowley became more closed off, his visits became kind of awkward and he tended to avoid Aziraphale’s questioning glances. The angel still hoped that Crowley would start talking of his own accord about his problem, especially because with every step from Aziraphale towards the demon, Crowley reacted like an injured animal who bit everything near him out of fear to be hurt again. It was horrible for the angel to see him like that, after all it was in his nature to care and help someone so dear to him. With a sight Aziraphale turned the light in the bookshop with a clap of hands off and went upstairs, with thoughts about a certain demon on his mind.

\--

Crowley's flat was dark, which let his yellow eyes glint dangerously between his big plants when he came near Beelzebub and their underling in the middle of the room. The lord of flies wasn't impressed with the dramatic show, the demon beside them however was shivering like a leaf. Well, you couldn't blame the creature, every demon knew about Crowley and his immunity to holy water and when the greatest weapon of heaven showed no effect, what else could? That thought made them grin, because Beelzebub found something much crueler that would hurt the yellow-eyed demon beyond repair, if he did not behave. It was the perfect leash to tame the tiger, so to speak. And he could only blame himself for that, he chose his way and so the Lord of Flies chose theirs.

“What do you want?” Crowley growled when he stood before them. “I did what you asked me to do, can't a demon get a break from time to time?” The question made Beelzebub smile, they always liked the selfish bastard .. well not his ideas, the prince was more the type for direct torture and screams, but they could relate to his resilience. Not every fallen angel made it through hell, it was after all a very selective environment, which destroyed everyone not strong enough to withstand. Beelzebub knew it best; the lord of flies was born anew in hellfire and knew every nuance of it – as well as one of the seven princes of hell must know their kingdom. But in contrast to the other princes they chose a female form, because in their opinion true strength was a female trait.

“She arrives tomorrow in Dublin, I want you to protect her from .. certain interruptions. The angels promised their approval, but we can't trust them. They want the war as much as we do, but there can be just one victor”. They paid close attention to Crowley’s reaction, but couldn't find any signs of resistance or betrayal. “As you wish" the demon drawled and made a mocking bow. The lord of flies and their underling vanished surrounded by hellfire, which filled the dark flat with eerie light.

Crowley stood in the middle of the room with a carefully blank face and let the fire lick at his human form. It remembered him of another scene, where he wore the face of his angel and everything seemed to work out for them. But he was careless and ignorant then and now he had to pay the price for his sins. He didn't allow himself to think of Aziraphale any longer than necessary, so instead he took his sunglasses and went out the door to make his way towards the Bentley.

\--

A pale girl entered the closed-off area and glanced at the back of the stage, which was surrounded by security members and stage workers. Her black hair was artfully upswept and matched her dark lipstick and eyeliner. She was short and thin and looked more like a teenager than a full-grown woman. But you made only once the mistake to tread her without respect, cause despite her young age this girl could make a man cry with just a few chosen words, Crowley thought to himself, something he had witnessed a few hours ago when he picked her up at the airplane. Hell no, he wouldn't make that mishap and so he kept to himself and tried to avoid her as much as possible. Not because he was shy of an argument or because he didn't like that special trait of hers (he very much did) but she was an instrument of the divine and it was bad enough he was part of it (again). But he had to congratulate god to her choice, no human would even dare to think such a delicate woman to be in any way dangerous. “What do you think, will that do?” the girl suddenly asked and stared back at the demon. “Well, depends on what you are trying to achieve. Raise a cult? Attend a dog show? Open up a bookshop?” Oh for Satan’s sake, must the angel stalk his thoughts even when he wasn't here? “I would say yes to Number 1 and 2, the last one would be a bit tricky" Crowley murmured, before he remembered with whom he was talking to. _Shit!_ The silence which followed his statement was deafening and the demon cringed under her blank stare. Dammit why could he never shut his mouth? the fallen angel thought irritated. He tried to come up with something that would save him from tears, when the girl laid her head back and laughed. “You are funny, man in black. Will the stage do for a concert?” Her dark eyes glistened with mirth and a small smile played at her lips. “A concert? I guess. Are you a Rockstar I failed to recognize?” he asked incredulously. She shook her head slowly and shot the demon a thoughtful look. “Nobody here knows me .. yet" was her response and with a last look at him she vanished backstage. “Well ok, that wasn't strange at all" the demon whispered sarcastically to himself and turned back to the Bentley. It didn't really matter anyway; his work was done for now and hopefully Beelzebub would give him at least one free day before hellish duty called once more.

\--

The night was full of lights, so bright she couldn't see the stars anymore; it was hot and damp, while thousands of faces looked upon her and she spread her arms to welcome her audience. For her it felt like a dream, where you know what is happening, but you can't control any of it. A slow beat could be heard from the band behind her, so loud she could feel the vibration deep in her bones and made her feel weak and powerful at the same time. Her audience moved their lips, but everything was so intense that she didn't hear any words. She knew what they were saying in hushed whispers however, because it was always the only thing on their minds when she started to sing. It was and was not her name, something she didn't chose but was part of her: _Drake_

\--

The bookshop was dark and silent while his owner slept upstairs in a cozy looking armchair with a book draped over his thighs. Nobody would describe that scenery as unusual, except for the dark clothed man with sunglasses, who was bending slowly over the sleeping figure. “Never thought you would try to sleep and succeed, angel" He took the open book gently from the angel's thighs and put it on the nightstand. “And you should try something else to read rather than heaven’s propaganda, I told you that a million times. Seriously, it is like fanfiction based on a horrible book. It simply can't get better than the original” he whispered towards the sleeping angel when he cached a glimpse at the book title. He could imagine vividly how Aziraphale would react to such blasphemous words if he was awake and a melancholy smile softened his angular face. With a gentle touch of his long fingers, he swept a white lock out of the angel’s face and stared at the celestial being before him as if memorizing every detail. He didn't notice at first what was happening to him 6000 years ago, while the heavenly being tiptoed right into the demon’s heart and refused to leave since then. Oh, he tried to banish him when he got aware of the angels influence over him, but nothing seemed to work. It may be his own fault really, because he just couldn’t resist being close to Aziraphale – even now, when hell was breathing down his neck like never before, he acted like a moth to a flame, readily flying towards his death for a few moments of heat. Aziraphale's essence - mortals would call it his soul - was holy and therefore like poison to demons, he didn't even know if he would survive looking at the angel's true form. But he knew, just _knew_ he couldn't stop himself when he ever had the chance to see or touch Aziraphale in his unprotected form. He never was the type to be satisfied by the half of it and every smile or soft touch of the angel was like a flame to an arsonist, and the demon always loved to play with fire. It was a bittersweet weakness humans knew well, but something usually reserved only for them, so they could atone for their sinful behavior and get back in heaven's good graces .. or get lost in temptations with a little demonic help. It didn't happen to demons and angels, there was no forgiveness for them to begin with. Committing a sin meant immediate punishment, in god's opinion only humanity deserved a second chance. Their role was restricted to being messengers and servants of heaven or hell and influencing god's creation in one way or another. Not falling in love with the enemy or thwarting the divine war. But Crowley always had the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong with him, even before he fell from heaven. No, _especially_ before he fell towards damnation – that was the main reason he was with Lucifer and the other fallen ones who questioned god's authority.

After his second becoming he was sure god was done with him, but then she showed him what true punishment felt like in the form of an angel at the Eastern Gate of Eden, someone so special he could never dare to call his. He never met an angel who bent god's rules like Aziraphale does: Behind those kind eyes is a keen intelligent mind who knows exactly how to walk the divine line and still do what he wants. Oh yes, before Almostgeddon he often talked about god's ineffable plan and how no one can question it and when angry he tended to reproduce heaven's stereotypical thinking, but Crowley knew the angel like no one else does and he saw the angel's silent withdrawal from heaven, since god decided to drown a whole tribe - with the only exception of Noah and seven other people - just to prove her point. While Crowley always was the intense (some may say dramatic) one who said what he meant and openly rebelled against heaven's authority, Aziraphale was the token principality of the Lord who stole the figurative lobster when no one was looking. So it wasn't a surprise at all he kept flying back to his flame, whose kindness extended beyond the lines of his enemies and whose slyness could match every demon if he wanted to. Yes, he thought while stroking the angel’s white hair with a feather-light touch of his fingers, this was his own personal hell god constructed specifically for him. At least he was a demon and had experience with all kind of punishments and personal hells. When it came to temptations, he knew how to weave them for mortal beings and had studied the alternative options they used to overcome them at their own. They seldom succeeded, but a human solution to an almost human problem seemed the right path to take, particularly when it was too late to hide it. With a last longing glance at the angel the red-haired demon closed the door of Aziraphale's bedroom and went downstairs. He took Aziraphale's handmade copies of _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter_ out of his cluttered desk and with a snap of his fingers set the papers on fire. He let the ash fall through his fingers to the floor and vanished with the though, that at least _his_ god was walking among them, instead of being a silent deity who didn't seem to care about anyone.

\--

When Aziraphale woke from his sleep he noticed three things at once: His book was not where he left it, there was a strange smell in the air, and he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He jumped out of his armchair and took in his room, but there wasn't anything out of the ordinary, just his usual well-arranged chaos of books, candles, writing materials and crumbs from his last meal. But the angel didn't survive so long among humanity (as much as he loved humans, they could get rather violent when they wanted) without getting a feeling when danger was in the air .. well, becoming nearly headless during the French Revolution was mainly clumsiness and the love for crepes on his part, not because he underestimated the fire of a human revolution. With a racing heart the angel sneaked downstairs, where the smell of burned paper was the strongest. But his greatest fear of another fire in his beloved bookshop didn't come true when he reached the end of the stairs and saw the morning light shining through his shop and gently touching his undamaged books. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, although he still didn't know where the smell came from, who put his book on the nightstand or why the feeling of unseen eyes hadn't vanished. The only one who had always access to his shop was Crowley, but the demon knew what would happen if he ever dared to enter with something that could harm his books.

He learned his lesson 1823 in Germany: Aziraphale had once upon a time a little house of his own with a small but precious library. Crowley dropped by one night like he always did: With a smile on his lips and excitement in his voice, like there never was a time lapse between their secret meetings at all. After talking about their heavenly and hellish deeds on this side of the World (of course Crowley's temptations were the reason for the extra material antics of the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach[1]) the demon showed him the newest of hell's achievements. A young chemist with the name of Johann Döbereiner[2] invented the prototype of a lighter and Hell was his biggest subscriber because – in Crowley's words – “with a lighter a demon can fulfil his job without using miracles for fire all the time, and yes fire is necessary angel, we have to answer human expectations.” The demon sparked the lighter to life and forgot Aziraphale's newest edition, which laid innocently beside it. Added to that, he also forgot that the lighter was a new invention, which meant it still had flaws and could cause accidents - sparks were still able to fly out of it for all it’s protective glass around it. The sequence of this event was a gutted house with no books left and an angel who exploded into righteousness fury. The demon was smart enough to take his hellish lighter and disappear into the night as fast as he could, before Aziraphale consecrated the East Side of Germany.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted his mental time travel and he frowned at it as if it personally offended him. “Mr. Fell speaking. How can I help?” said the angel when he decided it couldn’t be helped and that the caller would try again if he didn't pick up now. “Hello Aziraphale. Anathema here, I think I need your help.” “Oh dear" the angel sighted, feeling the human sense of Déjà-vu in the air.

[1] His name was **Karl August, Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenac** and he lived from 1757 to 1828 in Germany. He had 13 children: seven with his wife, five other children acknowledged by him born out of wedlock.

[2] **Döbereiner** was a German chemist, who invented a lighter called "Döbereiner’s Lampe". It was more like a lamp than a lighter but influenced the invention of our modern lighters greatly and was the first one produced in great qua _ntity._


	2. When I sinned, I found my god

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all who left Kudos!! This story got darker than I planned, so I choose to apply archive warnings. Do not worry, I have still a happy ending in mind :)
> 
> Anathema's magic is here based on Pagan Witchcraft (Wicca), because I always thought it would suit to a modern witch like her. If you know more about Wicca or think I got something wrong, please tell me.
> 
> The chapter title is from the song "Mama & Papa" by Kovacs. You can find me on tumblr @betweenraysoflight.

_For behold, the lord will come in fire. And his chariots like the whirlwind, to render his anger with fury, and his rebuke with flames of fire. For the Lord will execute judgement by fire and by his sword on all flesh, and those slain by the lord will be many._

**Isaiah 66:15-16**

Sunglasses. A clever human invention to protect the eyes of mortals from bright sunlight, which could damage their sensitive eyes. Aziraphale hated them. Not on humans, but on his demonic companion he very much did. He knew it was the best way for the demon to cover his yellow eyes without constantly creating miracles, but it was difficult to guess Crowley's moods or simply know where the demon was looking at when you couldn't see them (he guessed the demon was often just pretending to be awake during their dinners and _that_ was the reason for his not-eating habits). Under normal circumstances it wouldn't be a problem at all for an angel to sense the feelings surrounding a being, but a demon was a special case. Demons were once angels, so they knew how to manipulate their environment to disguise their feelings from others, it would be too big of an advantage for their enemies otherwise. At times when the demon was preoccupied with other things, Aziraphale could sense flashes of feelings surrounding Crowley, but not more than that. Well, heaven always propagated that demons could only feel emotions like hate, wrath, lust and all other negative associated emotions, but Aziraphale knew Crowley for 6000 years and he had to be blind not to see that the demon felt as much and as deep as every other being does. Was it even possible to feel hate when you didn't have a concept of love? The angel very much doubted it. Heaven's splitting was just propaganda of war, so the angels had a certain perception of their demonic enemies and vice versa, which prevented (usually) fraternization between the parties and ensured clear lines for the final war between angels and demons. Oh dear, it was really a wonder that he was still an angel .. such a view alone should be enough to let him fall, the angel thought uneasy. Almostgeddon did change so much and he couldn't seem to stop doubting everything regarding heaven since then. It was very exhausting and confusing, and he couldn't thank _someone_ enough for the perdurable rock of his immortal life in the form of Crowley.

Sunglasses. A much safer topic, he thought, while looking at Crowley who laid sprawled out on his couch like it belonged to him. “You look like you have a stomach bug, angel. Something troubling that pretty head of yours?” the demon murmured around the Kaiserschmarrn[1] he was currently chewing on, a present from a lovely Austrian lady who visited his bookshop regularly and was as excited about Aziraphale's first editions of Jane Austen's novels as the angel himself was. He would deny it until earth ceased to exist, but he was at heart an incorrigibly romantic. The demon however didn't seem to like the woman very much, but that didn't hinder him to eat her home-made meals every time she dropped them by. “My dear boy, you know you don't have to wear them around me, right?” said the angel softly and nodded to the demon's sunglasses. Crowley seemed to have swallowed too much of his meal right then and after a coughing fit and waving off the worried angel hovering beside him his head turned an interestingly shade of red. Must be the too little air he got, the angel mused, although immortals like them didn't need air but well, old habits and all that. “I know, angel” the demon whispered faintly while getting up from the couch with the grace of a viper and standing in front of Aziraphale. “But that’sss not all of it, isn't it? What isss really going on in there?” the demon said and looked down on his shorter companion, while he playfully tapped his forefinger on the angel's head. Why did the demon always wanted to help him but refused to get help when he needed it too? the angel asked himself, when he waved away his friend’s offending finger. “Quit pro quo, Crowley. You tell me about your problem, and I will tell you about mine. Do we have a deal, my dear friend?” The angel said and shot him a fierce and determinate look. He made himself spiritually ready to fight for this deal, because it seemed to be always like that these times. He was still brainstorming solid arguments to persuade the demon to take the deal, when Crowley removed his sunglasses slowly and stepped right into Aziraphale's personal space and he all but forget about his well elaborated strategy. He immediately looked up into Crowley's unveiled eyes and was mesmerized by their beautiful colour. So close they looked more amber than yellow, with a shade of gold around the pupils. The beauty of them had to have something to do with Crowley's original form .. or simply him being a charismatic demon who knew exactly how to capture someone's attention. This thought broke the spell and Aziraphale averted guiltily his gaze and turned away. How could he think Crowley manipulating him, he knew him after all for so long and such a thing never ever happened, he scolded to himself. He cursed heaven there and then for putting such stupid stereotypes into his head and himself for still falling for it, even when it was just for a second. After taking a deep breath, he turned around to the demon, who seemed to have observed him the whole time and Aziraphale felt his cheeks heating. Before he could say anything to make it worse and lose the argument before it began, Crowley reached with his right hand out to squeeze the angel's one gently. “We have a deal, angel. But not here, your flat hasss ears. We will meet the day after tomorrow at St. James, 10 p.m.” he quietly said and before Aziraphale could reply to it, the demon – who was still holding the angel’s hand – interwind their fingers and put their hands up to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss on the back of Aziraphale's knuckles. _That_ was the moment the angel’s mind definitively shut down completely. Crowley went out of the flat so fast he seemed to be teleporting, while the angel stood frozen in the middle of his room and could only think about one thing: _Heaven help me, what_ _just_ _happened?!?_

\--

Anathema Device was a woman of her word. Her whole life (and the life of every witch of her line before) was centered around her ancestor's legacy, to understand and interpret her prophecies with adequate accuracy. But her destiny was more interwind with Agnes Nutter than every other witch of her coven. She was not only the current keeper of her prophecies, but one predicted character in her prophecies as well. Even after playing her role in averting Armageddon and deciding to live finally for herself and herself only, she was still involuntarily playing her cursed destined part. Proof of that was her current situation: The young witch was sitting on the floor of Jasmine Cottage in Tadfield, while surrounded by notes about _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter._ Her long dark hair was up in a bun and she had a pen between her teeth while trying to decipher her own writings. After a minute she threw the pen away and sighted frustrated. Dammit, why hadn't she scanned the stupid book in a computer, before she decided to burn it? she thought to herself and cursed her mistrust of modern technology, which seemed to come automatically with being an occultist. It had to have something to do with relaying on their abilities rather than using technology, it was simply not necessary for a dog to use a navigational system when he could use his increased sense of smell. The thought brought back her frustration about burning the book and she threw the pen into the pile of notes on the floor.

She recognized Newt's ley lines before he opened the front door and after a minute it was indeed him who entered the room she was currently sitting in. “Hey darling, the milk was .. what happened?” he said, when taking in the chaos of notes littering the floor. “Some of my notes about Agnes book are gone. And no, you didn't accidentally misplace them, Newt” she said when noticing Newts guilty look, “I put a spell on them, so they always come back to my chest when I forgot them somewhere”. “O-Okay" was the former witchfinder's answer, because he was still astounded by magic and what it could do. Anathema wished she could share that childlike wondrousness, for her it was more a practicality than anything else. “Maybe they come back soon enough?” Newt said hopefully. Anathema stood up and put her arms around her boyfriend, because he always tried to make things better for her. “Thank you, darling. But the spell acts within a day. The notes are gone since last week, which means someone bypassed the spell, at least one of them. I asked a friend to help me, I am sure we solve that problem" she murmured into Newt's chest and enjoyed his warmth and the familiar scent of coffee and olive soap. Newt was so .. _normal_ , she never had someone like him in her life before. Well, she knew people who weren't occultists like her, but she never shared so much with someone who didn't know about sacred circles and spirit guides[2]. “We should see after Adam, isn't he the reason we are still here?” Newt said and smiled at her and she let him stir her out of the room towards a perfect summer day.

\--

Crowley growled at his plants when he entered the flat and nodded satisfied, when they straightened themselves immediately and sparkled. He sat on his couch, took his head in his hands and murmured “shit, shit, shit” with enough venom to make the plants tremble with fear. He would never persevere this mess when Aziraphale's big blue eyes were enough to make him talk like someone on Ecstasy. He tried to be extra careful around the angel, tried to keep up his usually suave and cool appearance with the main point on _not_ letting Aziraphale notice he still worked for Hell. Now he had exactly the kind of dilemma he tried so hard to prevent, all because he wasn't able to resist the angel in any way. No, he had two options: Lying to Aziraphale and manipulating him towards ignorance (and most likely lose him in the process) or telling him the truth and lose him forever. There was no world for Crowley without the angel in it, so option one it was. Since the incident with the bookshop was the fear to lose the angel as present for the demon as the sun was for earth and he would do anything to prevent that unacceptable outcome.

He had tried to talk himself into believing what he was doing was the lesser evil, that it was necessary, and the angel would understand when all was over. But no being understands self-deception and pride better than a demon does. Crowley knew that his reasons were selfish, even when they arose from fear. He ruffled his red hair in frustration and leaned back on the couch to look out of the window. The stars were bright tonight and the moon bathed London in gentle light. They should have run away together to Alpha Centauri, the demon thought waerily. But a certain angel had to save humanity and earth at the end and who was he to deny him that? Of course, he had a soft spot for humans too, which was the reason he started the whole let's-avert-Armageddon-together, but if Aziraphale had chosen to run away with him, he wouldn’t look back twice. That was the prominent difference between Aziraphale and him: The angel wouldn't be able to turn away from such things and the demon loved him for it. Crowley on the other hand would do everything for the two things he loved most – Aziraphale and the Bentley – but everything else was in his opinion up to free will and personal responsibility. Whether a thing like “free will" could ever exist in human society was another question altogether. The thing is, Crowley thought tiredly, that he wasn't the good guy here, even when he tried to just annoy mortals instead of hurting them like a demon was supposed to. It warmed his heart that Aziraphale was so sure about Crowley being basically good, but his deal with the devil was proof of the contrary. When the demon sighted and closed his eyes, he hoped he would for once dream about the bookshop and his owner without them burning to ash before his eyes.

\--

After the concert Drake stayed alone in a hotel in Dublin and enjoyed the silence currently surrounding her. She was never one to talk much, always more the observer than the entertainer. What an irony that it was her standing on stages and giving performances, when she wasn't one to like it very much. But there was no other way, at least that was the answer she always got since she was old enough to ask such questions. Looking up at the beautiful moon she hummed the melody of a lullaby she often heard, when she was still a little, innocent child. “You still know this old song?” a female voice whispered suddenly somewhere behind her. Drake whirled startled around and stared at a dark corner of the room, where the moonlight didn't reach. She knew those voice from times long gone and associated it with _childhood stories_ and _home .._ there was no reason to be afraid, she told herself. “You are still visiting me? I'm not a child anymore, you know?” she said, when a figure came slowly closer. “I wanted to see you, after all we are old friends. Everything going according to the plan?” the figure asked and entered the moonlit part of the room near Drake. They looked like a woman, small and delicate like herself but with pale, ancient eyes. “Yes. Who is the man in black who accompanied me backstage? You know that I don't like strangers around me, they give me the creeps" she whined while turning again to the window, her focus however never leaving them. She felt the figure step beside her and had the strange urge to touch them, feel that they were as real as the hotel room was. She had missed this voice and didn't want to say goodbye to them so soon, although it was true, the man in black was a being that spiked her interest. “The demon Crowley. He is a traitor, but a necessary tool in the final war. He will protect you from interventions”, said the being in a calming voice. Drake looked incredulously and with arched eyebrows at the woman beside her. “I am protected by a traitor. Seriously? No wonder I felt so much guilt and sadness from him” she mused while thinking about the strange demon. A short laugh from the figure got her out of her reflections and she looked up at them in surprise. “No, Crowley does not regret anything. He is a demon after all. But do not worry, he knows he will lose something very important to him when he dares to break this deal” the being murmured and an angry glint seemed to brighten their eyes. When the figure turned around and stepped silently towards the dark corner to leave, Drake blocked her way with a courage she didn't know she possessed until then. “Will I see you again before it's over?” she said and hated how small and hopeful her voice sounded. The being stared at her with pale eyes and it felt like they saw right through her. Drake suppressed a shiver and waited patiently for their answer, she remembered that the being took their time with everything. “You can call me Baal. Summon me if you need me and I will be there.” They said with a soft voice, while the figure – _Baal_ _ **[3]**_ – was suddenly surrounded by fire. A little smile played at their lips when they looked back at her and Drake could only stare at them in wonder, until the fire took her old friend again out of reach.

\--

A teenage boy was listening on his iPod, his soul captured in a web of music. He forgot that he wanted to call his girlfriend, had still homework to do and didn't eat anything since turning on the iPod, which was hours ago. The boy whispered the lyrics along a song he heard days ago on a stage in Dublin and couldn't think of anything else since then. The lyrics were terrifying, but at the same time enlightening and told about humanity's darkest secrets, secrets no child should know about, but where nonetheless reality. Tears ran down the boys cheeks while listening to the crimes of his ancestors, knowing that such things were repetitious as long as humanity remained. It was the last time the boy would hear those song, the last time he would talk to his girlfriend or have something to eat, before he found god once and for all.

\--

Aziraphale was exactly like she remembered him from the airbase: A kind being with round cheeks, intelligent sky-blue eyes and a shock of white locks. He had no ley lines because he wasn't human, but she felt save and kind of .. loved in his presence. He wore a brown suit with a blue stitch, over it the beige coat she saw him wearing on their first meeting. “Hello Ms. Device. How are you doing?" was the angels friendly reply, when she let him into Jasmine Cottage and guided him towards the living room. She was in a state of agitation since they agreed to meet in her home and cleaned the house from top to bottom for hours, until everything shined - although she noticed now how stupid that was. Was something so mundane like cleanliness even in the scope of mind of an occult being? “I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Device. I brought you and Newton Pulsifer doughnuts, but I was so hungry on the way to you that I couldn't resist to eat one .. or two" said the angel that moment and blushed adorably, which eased here nerves a great deal. She gave him a thankful smile and offered him tea, while they were seated around her grandmother's table. “That's really no problem, thank you for coming. And please call me Anathema. I was not sure it's ok to call you like that, but ..” The angel waved that argument off with a charming smile and said “my dear Anathema, I’m nowadays unemployed. I don't work for heaven any more than Crowley works for hell. I’m happy to help, you and I have to deal with the same problem after all .. I'm however still terribly shocked you burnt the book, it was the only one of it's kind and to destroy that kind of knowledge is ..” Aziraphale – whose righteous fury was nearly palpable at this point – stopped talking when he looked at her pleading eyes “.. but I'm sure you had your .. reasons" he finished lamely. It was obvious the angel deemed such an act to be a crime and would never understand any reason to burn a book, but it was the effort that counted. She thought it wise to change the topic, so she told the angel about the spell she used on the notes and the possible reasons why a part of them didn't turn back – or did they turn back and vanished from there? “Jolly good. So, in short: Part of your notes about the prophecies, as well as mine, vanished on the same day. And I didn't even notice the disappearance of my copies until you told me about yours” the angel said, mortified. “So how do we solve that problem? Is it like in the detective novels, with the interrogation of suspects and interviewing witnesses?” the occult being asked with shining eyes. “Well, yes we can try that. But we have neither suspect nor witness” Anathema argued but couldn't suppress her smile when seeing the angel’s enthusiasm. “I guess we should inspect the .. crime scenes and see what leads we can find?” she asked the angel, who nodded excitedly.

The first “crime scene" was Anathema's work room, where she had her altar surrounded by a magical circle. On a table across from it were her primary working tools: A paten disc, athame, chalice and wand, which presented the four elements of earth. Beside it was an old chest with Theban engravings on its surface and a lock on the front, which was mostly for show to keep nosy people away. It was protected by a spell, so only few beings could really break it. The content consisted of rare books about Magic (for instance her copy of _The_ _Key_ _of_ _Solomon_ _ **[4]**_ and the book of her ancestors about rituals), ingredients for spells, her Cingulum and her notes about Agnes Prophecies. Anathema and Aziraphale inspected the room – the angel with mostly closed eyes and a rare touch to an object, while the witch examined the spell on the chest. Half an hour later she didn't get any new information, both spells seemed to be still working .. which didn't make sense. The angel however seemed to have found something, because he was on his knees beside her and intently watched at his hands. Anathema kneeled and looked at Aziraphale's grey stained fingers, whose skin seemed to be remarkable red. “That's ash. I guess it comes from burning ingredients for my rituals. Does it .. does it hurt you?” she asked the angel in disbelief. Aziraphale turned with a shake of his curly head towards her and said “usually not, except you are using hellfire for that. Oh no, my coat is also stained .. nearly 181 years without a scratch or spot and now that! Can you imagine?” Anathema couldn't, but that was beside the point. “Oh, and be a dear witch and bring me please some water, I can't get the ash off without it” Aziraphale murmured while waving his now blood-red hands frantically through the air. Anathema brought him the water as fast as she could and watched fascinated when the angel blessed it with raised hands and something that sounded like a prayer in Latin. After that he put his hands in the bucket of holy water and sighted relieved, when the ash burned away on the water's surface. “My dear, I got us a suspect. It' s a demon we are after, and a strong one at that” he said. The witch and the angel sat side by side on the floor and looked at each other, one shocked and the other pleased like a child who found a candy.

\--

Gabriel sat in his office in heaven and stared thoughtful at a contract, while he unconsciously tapped with his fingers on the desk. It could be a nervous tick by humans, but Gabriel was 1. an archangel, the left hand of god, the one god entrusted the world to and unquestionable one of the most important figures in god's trusted circle and 2. always in control of everything and therefore didn't take on human expressions for situations he never experienced. Looking at the contract made his tapping go faster and he had the unseemly urge to rip the assignment into pieces. The only exception to his history of total control was the defeat of Armageddon and he blamed it all on the demon Crowley, who dared to seduce an angel of the lord into complicity. Yes, he never was close to the former Guardian of the Eastern Gate and he would have watched him die through hellfire without batting an eyelid then, but he couldn't deny he was now relieved that the angel mysteriously survived his punishment. Gabriel saw this unexpected turn of events as a sign of god: Aziraphale had still a role to play in her plans and belonged to Heaven after all. Gabriel would make sure the angel realized that, but all in due time. He scrutinized the contract a last time - especially Crowley's signature beside Beelzebub's – before he signed it and teleported it out of his office with an angry snap of his fingers. He despised the demon with all his angelic integrity, because he corrupted a holy being and recklessly called it _love_. It was blasphemy on the highest level, a demon knew _only_ about feelings which would destroy love eventually and could never cherish someone truly. The serpents so-called love was a poisonous thing, which would turn Aziraphales white wings slowly but steady into dark ones. Gabriel tried to reign in his fury by persuading himself that there was still time to prevent that scenario. Crowley was now nothing more than a pawn in this game of chess and the demon himself made sure of that. At least there wouldn't be any interference this time and the Archangel could collect Aziraphale after everything was over. Gabriel had just to alter the end of it a little bit, so the demon wouldn't survive his deal long enough to enjoy it. The Angel nodded satisfied to himself and rolled his shoulders to relax the muscles on the neck of his vessel. It was time to prepare for war and bring his soldiers into the loop of heaven and hell's plan to ensure their divine war was this time happening like prophesied.

[1] **Kaiserschmarrn** is an Austrian desert, a kind of fluffy shredded pancakes.

[2] Many pagan and wiccan communities communicate with the spirit world. There are different types of spirits and some may guide people throughout their life and help them. They are called “ **spirit guides** ”.

[3] Beelzebub's name derives from the philistine god "Baal Zebub" (ugaritic). The name Beelzebub is also often associated with the god **Baal,** so I figured this two were possibly once one and the same before the god entered the bible and became a demon.

[4] **The Key of Solomon** is a grimoire, which presents Renaissance Magic. It was written in the 14th or 15th century by Jewish Kabbalists and Arab Alchemists. The work influenced later spell books.


	3. Crown of Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, work was literal hell.

_A king, the angel of the bottomless pit; whose name in Hebrew is Abaddon, and in Greek Apollyon; in Latin Exterminans._

**Revelation 9:11**

Eden was a beauteous garden, where the fairest plants and animals resided. In its mid grew the Tree of Life, also called the Tree of Good and Evil. It was a stunning being, the most beautiful tree of all and the one where Gabriel once produced souls for god. Adam and Eve didn't know about the plant's importance, just that it was forbidden to taste it's pleasantly looking fruit. It wasn't a surprise for the angel, who stood hidden in the shadows behind another tree, when the serpent tempted Eve with the forbidden apple, and she chose to taste it together with Adam. The angel knew that Lucifer would eventually send someone to take vengeance on the one thing god cherished the most: His human creation, originated from the earth Abaddon collected. God knew that too, which was the reason why the angel waited silently until Eve and Adam had eaten the fruit and his true work could begin. He was Abaddon[1], the angel of destruction and ruler of the abyss, and he always followed after disobedience against the Almighty resurfaced. He knew that other beings feared him for his purpose and appearance and neither angels nor demons ever tried to approach him since god assigned him his task. After punishing Adam and Eve in god's holy name and hunting them out of the garden, he went back to see why the serpent - even after fulfilling his evil duty – was still in god's garden. He might be once an angel, but god's punishment lasts forever, and he had no place in god's realm anymore. He found the demon at the Eastern Gate, where he talked with the Guardian there. Abaddon observed their conversation from afar and watched the serpent, who seemed to be fascinated by the angel to the extent of completely forgetting where he was and what would happen to him if a cherubim[2] found him here. When the guardian angel sheltered the demon, Abaddon left with the thought that seemingly even demons found their forbidden fruit in Eden.

\--

Crowley swaggered into the bookshop like he did a hundred times before and like so often, Aziraphale stood beside one of his bookshelves and talked with a customer (who couldn't be chased away by strange smells or other unpleasantness’s, which the angel miraculously made to protect his precious first editions) about something book-y. The demon leaned lazily against the wall across from Aziraphale and distracted himself with giving all humans the evil eye who dared to look his way. After some time – which was admittedly most likely just a few minutes - he regarded the woman in front of the angel more precisely: It wasn't the annoying Austrian who always tried to clumsily flirt with Aziraphale, but he regardless couldn't withhold the spike of jealousy the feelings of the woman towards the angel – fascination and admiration – brought on the surface. Some would think after so many years in love he could manage such feelings but being able to evoke those emotions effectively in humans was the result of knowing such emotions very, very well. It was well known demons were experts in reading human behavior – they had to, otherwise they couldn't influence mortals to sin. That demons felt hate, fear, wrath and jealousy (it was after all their field of expertise) in much more depth and intensity than other beings did, was however a secret only they knew. The glare he shot the strange woman didn't go unnoticed by the angel and he waved his hand joyful when he locked his gaze with Crowley. “Crowley, my dear, will you join us?” the angel called out and the demon had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes fondly. Aziraphale was such a smart being, but when it came to their relationship the angel was as dense as it gets. That made him thought about a situation in Madrid in 1988, where the hotel manager gave them one room for the night and Aziraphale had the firm conviction the poor manager had just one room left for both.

He shook his head about that memory and took a deep breath, before he stalked towards them and loomed threateningly over the woman, who still hadn’t turned around to face Crowley. The angel said that moment with a pleased look “Hello, my dear! What are you doing here? I thought we wouldn't see each other until tonight at .. at the one place we agreed on?” At least Aziraphale didn't forget Crowley's comment about his bookshop being bugged. “But heaven, where are my manners? You remember Ms. Anathema Device?” Crowley arched one eyebrow mockingly at the question. Did the angel really thought he would try to memorize the names of mortals who constantly tried to get between them? The angel should be glad he just damaged their cars, or they miraculously had an amount of debts to pay .. humans could blame themselves for that, didn't they say, “all is fair in love and war”? Before he could answer the angel's question with a poisonous reply, the woman in question turned around and looked up at him. He stared in shock at the book-girl he “run over” (seriously, it was just a little push) with his Bentley, while he sensed her feelings of confusion and fear. He backed down immediately and tried to cover his embarrassment and shock with “Ngk .. hello, I err, yes, I remember. The girl with the .. book?” He wished hell would drag him down right now and spare him this conversation, especially in front of Aziraphale , but relying on hell was always futile. The book-girl stared uneasily at him but said “Hello Mr. Crowley" and that was that. Even his dense Angel seemed to notice then the uncomfortable atmosphere between the witch and the demon and he not-so-gracefully tried to save the situation in typical (adorable) Aziraphale-fashion. “Does anyone want Cookies? I think I have some in my flat! Yes, I will bring them down immediately, jolly good!” He went upstairs with a confused look back at Crowley, who nodded reassuringly at the angel.

When Aziraphale vanished around the corner, Crowley moved so quickly towards the witch that she couldn't do anything else but back up against the wall in shock. He would never hurt a mortal if he could help it (Nazis were the only exception), but there were some things he had to sort out before the angel came back and he knew that humans paid most attention when _drama_ was involved. So, for the sake of a dramatic show, he stood suddenly before her and stared her down with his serpent eyes, the sunglasses in his leather jacket. “Listen, book-girl. I won't allow you to drag him into some dangerous stuff. I haven't kept him out of trouble for thousands of years so you can jeopardize him now, because you can't solve your own note-y problems and Aziraphale is too good-natured to refuse you" he whispered menacingly to her. “If anything happens to him – _anything_ \- I will make your life a living hell and you will regret the day you met us for as long as you live. Are we clear?” the demon said, while looming over the girl. The girl's eyes were so big it seemed they were falling out of her face and Crowley mentally stepped on the guilty feeling right then. This had to be done, he remembered himself, there was no way around it. “I understand" the witch said quietly, and Crowley nodded, relieved he made his point so fast.

He turned away from the girl and wanted to leave the room, when her voice stopped him. “How do you know my problem involves notes?” the book-girl asked. _Shit_ , the demon thought, while turning towards her slowly and trying to be threatening about it. “Just assuming the obvious" he answered nonchalantly, but internally he was screaming. Of course, the witch found now of all times her courage and was that a doubting look in her eyes? _Shit!_ And as if his current problems weren't enough, the witch took a step towards him and said with a softly voice “and you _love_ him. I never thought a demon could .. but it's true, isn't it?” His face must have confirmed the girl's intuition, because she shot him a sad smile, lowered her gaze and smoothed her ruffled skirt. Now it was his time to stare in fear at the witch. Suddenly everything was too much and he succumbed to the overwhelmingly urge to flee this now uncontrollable situation. He teleported himself with a miracle out of the bookshop and into his flat, were he desperately tried to reign in his anxiety and forget this horribly sad look on the girl’s face. Who would have thought a witch was able to defeat a demon with a talk about his heart?

\--

Anathema closed the door of Jasmine Cottage with the feeling that she likely had to sleep for 100 years to be able to process the events from today. The young witch went inside the dark living room and lighted a candle, before she dragged herself on the couch and closed her tired eyes. Her bad day started with her visit in Aziraphale's bookshop, where the two of them wanted to inspect the second crime scene. They searched the angel's desk and indeed found under it ash from paper consumed by hellfire. The angel was this time much more anxious about their discovery, because the bookshop was protected by holy sigils: No demon could pass the shop without Aziraphale noticing it. But every craft had their flaws, the angel told her, so it was possible the sigils were eluded, even if he had no idea how a demon could do that. With that settled, the actual question of their investigation included what the burned notes of Agne's prophecies were about. Sadly, neither Aziraphale nor Anathema remembered this part of the prophecies and the original text was lost in fire.

  
Anathema was overall fascinated by Aziraphale, because she never had the chance to see the point of view of an occult being and couldn't help herself regarding his shop with curiosity. She was an occultist, which meant she knew well about the arcane, but her social circle consisted just of witches from different covens and two humans. Socializing with an angel (well, for her he was basically a spirit) was therefore an incredible experience for her and she was brimming over with excitement, when the angel showed her his old books about witchcraft and occultism. What surprised her most was the fact that the angel had a first edition of The Book of the Law by Aleister Crowley[3]. While she discussed with Aziraphale Pre-Christianity Religions and Pagan belief, she suddenly sensed another occult being near. That wouldn't be unusual at all, considering the angel of course had to have friends and acquaintance nearby, but the one she sensed didn't seemed to have good intentions towards her. And when the angel called after them and the being closed the distance and loomed behind her, she felt her hair stand on end and for a few seconds was afraid to turn around and face the malevolent being. The angel beside her didn't seem to notice any danger – if anything, he beamed up at this Crowley with delight in his eyes and that calmed her down a little. Wasn't that the name of the lanky, red-haired spirit with the sunglasses? She turned around and the threatening aura she sensed before vanished immediately.

But it only lasted for the time the angel accompanied them, cause the second he went upstairs to his flat, her bad day got worse. Before she knew what happened, the dark spirit stood intimidatingly close before her and stared her down with glittering, creepy eyes. She froze on the spot like a deer in the headlight and couldn't to anything else than remember what her mother always preached about spirits - she didn't per se believe in hell or heaven, for her Aziraphale and Crowley were neither good nor evil: " _Take always precautions when dealing with them, Anathema. They are often neutral and know much more about this world than we do, honey. Respect them and they will respect you."_ This spirit however didn't seem to be in the mood to follow her mother’s perception and indeed presented himself as rather sinister. But then the demon talked about Aziraphale and she stared at him in wonder when she saw the deep yearning in his eyes. But how could that even be? the witch thought puzzled. She was no expert in religions, but she knew that angels and demons were biblical foes on contradictory sides. Her spoken assumption about these forbidden feelings proved the spirit himself to be true, because it was written in every line of his angular face. She regarded him with sadness in her heart, because know she understood the rage towards her arose from jealousy and the threat from desperation.

Well, that however did not explain the dark spirit's knowledge about her problem with the notes, didn't it? Could it be that Crowley knew what hell was up to? It didn't make sense at all, especially after the revelation about the demon's feelings for the angel. Those thoughts made her bad day the worst of all since Armageddon, because it gave her heavy heart a headache on top of it. She blew her candle out and hoped this would all turn out to be a misunderstanding and less complicated than she suspected.

\--

Beelzebub looked at Gabriel with pale blue eyes and thought about the time they once were bright like him. The dark being hated every minute of it. If asked (or not), angels always told about the great wonders they were part of and how glorious it was to do god's work. They never told about the compulsion of blind obedience or the immediate punishment that followed when you didn't fulfil god's commission in its holy entirety. In the prince’s opinion angels were just servants and nothing more, who had to do the bidding of an arrogant entity who deemed herself the only true god. Beelzebub regarded the other archangels – Michael, who defeated once her dark lord, and Uriel - behind Gabriel with a dismissive glance while thinking about that, before they drawled to God's favorite angel “We are ready soon. The prophet, the beast and the dragon are wakening, and our demons take care of the signs”. Gabriel regarded them with an inexplicable look and came closer, which made the demons beside them starting to go forward. These stupid angels, never respecting the concept of personal space, they thought while stopping the guard with a glance. The demons froze as well as the archangel, when the prince of Sheol[4] slowly closed the distance until they stood before Gabriel. Michael and Uriel exchanged alarmed looks and Uriel drew her flaming sword[5], which made Beelzebub chuckle. Despite being in a much smaller vessel than the angel, the dark prince looked up at Gabriel with challenging eyes and a cold smile on their lips. “How are your butlers doing, Gabriel? I see they are now allowed to attend important meetings. How kind you are!” they said in a mocking tone while staring at the angels behind Gabriel. “Let me ask you a question, Gab. Do they already call you god?” they asked, while Gabriel couldn't suppress the flare of anger in his violet eyes. “How dare you, you foul demon!” he hissed through clenched teeth, before he cut himself off. Beelzebub smiled for winning this game once more, there was after all a reason why they were royalty in Sheol. “How do you know this antichrist isn't as useless as the last one was?” Gabriel asked angrily, always immediately back to business. “If she is, the next one will follow" they told him, because there never was just one antichrist. They would be on this world as long as it existed, as long as the final war hadn't a victor. Beelzebub knew that the current one had the potential to succeed, but she was half human after all. “We are setting everything up for the holy rites and are waiting for the last angel to be awoken" Gabriel said and a tight feeling rose inside the prince, while taking in the angel's words and the reverence in his voice. Everyone – especially the demons - seemed to be suddenly uneasy, because god's greatest weapon would walk the earth soon. Beelzebub knew that being very well and hated it like god herself, because it was the last thing they saw before they fell with burning wings into Sheol. Gabriel knew their history too and he had the audacity to wink at Beelzebub, when his eyes found theirs. Too proud to react and give the archangel any kind of revenge for their game with him before, the dark prince turned on their heels and left this godforsaken place in a pillar of hellfire, a gleeful laugh following them below.

\--

Aziraphale was always one who needed time to comprehend changes, especially when those changes applied to him personally. He knew that Crowley was much better in adapting new environments and accepting alterations and he couldn't help but feel like he was simply too old for such fast changes .. which applied also to Crowley, but the demon was able to adapt to much more radical changes, maybe because he had to learn to deal with such things very early on. So, for Aziraphale the Almostgeddon and the following repercussions were difficult to comprehend, mostly because they formed cracks in his world view which could never be repaired. But he didn't have to deal with it alone and Crowley experienced such deep alterations thousands of years before when he fell from heaven, so he was literally in best hands when he had to learn that lesson. But now it was Crowley who seemed to change right before his eyes and the angel had no clue how he should deal with _that._ Crowley, his dearest friend and cornerstone, who was the only constant in this eternal, but ever-changing life. His deep feelings for the demon was another attest for failing his very existence and he would never dare to bring them into the light, because besides that .. a demon would never love an angel. Crowley contempted everything related to god and heaven for so long and even if Crowley considered him his best friend, would he be able to love the one thing he despised? He assumed it was easier for himself to overcome such emotions, after all he was in contrast to the demon an entity who thrived on love, faith and devotion and in some way, he loved every being of god's creation (except Nazis). It was a shock to discover his love for Crowley was a different one, one he didn't want to share, one he associated with warmth, safety and _home._

He knew the demon thought him a little bit dense and he had to admit that it could take ages before he noticed things like that, but not when it concerned Crowley. It was exactly 3 months and 2 weeks after Almostgeddon, when his odd behavior towards the angel reached a new level. The demon came into the shop and was so lost in thoughts that he nearly fell over the edge of the shop’s entrance. After an embarrassed glance at Aziraphale and a “here you are, angel" (where else would he be at this time?) Crowley caught the angel's sleeve and murmured something about “let's talk some, mph" and dragged him along upstairs. That alone wouldn't be strange, if they had shared a bottle of wine and talked about old times or where they would meet next, festival or theatre? But that didn't happen .. not the usual way at least, because Crowley seemed to be too preoccupied with staring at the angel and when caught the third time, closing up and avoiding eye contact entirely. Aziraphale still tried to keep up a dialog and of course failed miserably. Whatever was going on in the demon’s head, it had to be something really important to him and maybe he thought the angel could help him? Maybe it was a painful affair and his staring was his way of saying “please help me, without me having to ask"? He tried to be helpful, but his questions (he had to know at least what topic that problem involved) seemed to have the opposite effect. It ended with Crowley being confused and asking him about his odd questions when it was the demon who behaved strangely prior to that!

Between the events of Almostgeddon and their unsuccessful talk, Crowley's unusual behavior increased alarmingly: he seemed to be kind of stressed, often lost in thought and an aura of anxiety surrounded him more frequently than ever. The demon was usually one who strictly maintained his personal space, but now he seemed in need of always being physically close to Aziraphale, even if it was just putting an arm around the angel's shoulder or holding his hand. It was as if there was a dividing wall between them and the demon wanted to break through it, but was too afraid to do it .. and what was that figurative wall and why wouldn't Crowley just ask him to open the door? It was similar to the holy water request, but there he knew how to make the situation better for Crowley, even when it broke his heart. Like then it was now nearly unbearable for him, especially because the demon refused to talk about it this time and therefore took every possibility away for Aziraphale to help him. This helpless feeling propelled him towards every stupid means of dealing he could find: His current method to gain information was a simple human technique called "tailing", even when he felt bad about secretly following his friend. That's why he was wearing a white shirt, a leather jacket, Fedora and jeans (seriously, this modern style was horrible .. how could mortals like that restricting clothing?) and sitting in a strange bar at night where he sipped his 4th drink and tried to keep Crowley in his view. Since he entered the bar, the demon was deep in conversation with a woman and it didn't look like that talk would end soon. He didn't know why, but that meeting made him frown and left behind an uncomfortable feeling he had no name for, most of all when the demon smiled at his collocutor. It seemed like his friend's eyes (sunglasses) were glued to the lovely woman's face across from him, who talked emphatically with the demonic being. He always assumed that Crowley must have admirer, he was after all a very beautiful man with an iridescent personality, but it was one thing to know that subconsciously and another to see it. The demon across from Crowley was a dark skinned woman with long black hair, who looked unexplainable familiar to him .. maybe he saw her in hell when he wore Crowley's face? And was that friendship between those two, or more a .. a connection of a different kind? That thought made him feel like an intruder suddenly, who witnessed something he had no right to see. Yes, he needed to know what his friend was up to, but was it merely to help him? Or was the fact, that he was not in on Crowley's secret also a reason why he followed the demon around? the angel asked himself. Oh dear, he was anyway not made to work like that, it was more Crowley's modus operandi to shadow mortals and get to the bottom of their secret aspirations, he thought. He should have simply waited until Crowley told him about his secret tomorrow evening in St. James, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that the demon tried to distract him with that meeting, so the angel wouldn't see what really was going on in the meantime. Ashamed of this whole undercover operation, he left money on the counter and went outside, without noticing the yellow eyes following his every step.

\--

He slept deep under the earth, were it was warm and dark, silent and soothing. It was his home, a place god called his kingdom, where he resided until his holy duty would call him anew. His locusts where always near and protected the area from evil beings, while he slept his dreamless slumber. But then he heard a bright sound, the first one in thousands of years: It was the tone of a horn, beautiful and intense. The angel opened slowly his eyes and took in his naked form, which was coated by his big, brown wings. He turned his head upwards and his long dark hair fell on his shoulders, while the angel gazed towards where the lovely melody of the horn had to be. The entity let the sound wash through him, while he stretched his arms and legs, followed with his fingertips the line of his horns and spread out his dark wings, until they filled the small, dark room. The sound got more intense and the angel couldn't resist the allurement anymore; with a powerful beat of his wings he teleported himself out of familiar darkness into a world full of bright colors and sounds. Rain was falling on his form when he landed, which reminded him of a rainy day once upon a time in Eden, while his eyes got used to this strange environment. He automatically searched for the maker of the sound and his gaze locked with a being, who stood few meters away from him with a magnificent horn in her hands. She stood before the entrance of the abyss, where his subjects had surrounded her and waited patiently for the arrival of their king. They didn't attack, so the messenger must have god's seal on her forehead. Her face is familiar, he thought when he looked closer at her face, even when the hair and cloths of the angel were very different when he saw her last. “Welcome back, Abaddon. God is calling our brothers and sisters, because the final war is soon upon us" the archangel Michael told him with a respectful bow. When Abaddon took a step towards her, she straightened her body immediately and watched him carefully. “Then I will be his weapon, as always" he whispered in his deep voice and took another slow step towards the archangel. “Will you play your horn once more for me, Michael?” he asked quietly, when he stand before the holy warrior and victor over Satan[6]. The archangel stared at him, trying to guess the motivation behind that inquiry. Her short hair suited her strong and bellicose personality more than the long hair she had in Eden, Abaddon mused, while he watched Michael watching him. She gave him a short nod before she put the horn at her lips and produced the loveliest melody he ever heard.

[1] **Abaddon **is sometimes described as demon as well; his classification depends on the interpretation of his role. He is the angel of destruction, king of the abyss and ruler of locusts (beings with women's hair, a horse’s body, lions teeth and a scorpion's tail, who stings everyone not wearing god's seal). His duty in Armageddon is to bring the souls of the dead to the valley of Josaphat. In my story Abaddon looks like a mix of angel and demon (dark wings, horns but normal eyes), because of the aesthetics.

[2] **Cherubim** guard god's throne and the way to the Tree of Life in Eden. They are angels from the first sphere (the highest-ranking angels) and have four faces: one of an ox, lion, man and eagle. Their face has four wings covered with eyes; the body is that of a lion with oxen's feet.

[3] **Aleister Crowley** was a British occultist and poet (1875-1947), who rejected Christianity and was founder of the religion Thelema. The mentioned book is according to Crowley a transcript of a disembodied voice (Aiwass) he heard on the 8th April 1904 in Egypt.

[4] The description of **Sheol** varies, depending on the source: It is a dark and silent area, sometimes it includes punishment for sins committed in life, where the wicked dead (in some interpretations the righteous as well, but separated) are living as “shades", things without personality. This place is cut off from god and heaven but can be contacted by the living in certain circumstances. In ancient Greece it is often associated with the underworld and Hades. My interpretation is that it's a place very similar to our concept of hell, therefore Beelzebub will use this native word to describe it. It lies besides the abyss, Abaddon's kingdom.

[5] The archangel **Uriel** carries a scroll, a book, a flaming sword, a disc and a celestial orb with him. In the Ethiopian orthodox tradition he's holding a chalice as well.

[6] the Archangel **Michael** is the one who defeated Satan during the war in heaven, as a result Satan fell to earth and Michael got his position. In the New Testament he is the one who leads god's army against evil forces. Therefore, he is considered now the patron saint of police officers, the military and paramedics. Michael is treading on a dragon, wearing scales, a banner and a sword. He is (together with Gabriel) blowing the horns on Judgement Day.


	4. Play with fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't very long (sorry about that), but I finally got time to edit everything and put real footnotes in it. The chapter title is from the song "Play with fire" by Sam Tinnesz.

_And I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and wages war. His eyes are a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems; and he has a name written on him which no one knows except himself. He is clothed with a robe dipped in blood and his name is called The Word of God._

**Revelation 19:11-21**

Aziraphale leaned with closed eyes on a wall in a dark alley, while he tried to calm himself down by taking deep breaths of London's damp night air. This was such a stupid idea, he thought angrily, what in blazes was he thinking? How would trailing Crowley help him anyway, when the demon obviously didn't want the offered help? And it was Crowley's decision to not tell him about his secret, who was he do ignore that choice? He deserved what he got out of this, even when he felt devasted and surprisingly heartbroken. He would have ranted about his ungraciously behavior for hours, if there hadn't been a soft-footed noise right behind him. He opened his eyes and whirled around, but the dark alley was on both sides empty. “Hello?” he said uneasily, while he took his fedora off and squinted his eyes to see through the misty air. He could illuminate the street with a snap of his fingers, but what if a human saw him? That would be an annoying inconvenience, he thought grumpily, especially when he was in such a bad mood, he could gladly forgo that incident. Or it was a rat in search of a meal, and he was just easily startled these days, he told himself when he turned around and started to go forward. He took just a few steps when he noticed a motion above him, but by the time he looked up the angel didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just dirty walls and darkness. He scolded himself for his paranoia and went towards the end of the alley, where he could see the light of a lamp brightening the street. Aziraphale quickened his steps and pulled his fedora deep in his face, because he still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Before he could reach the end of the alley, a lanky man suddenly appeared there and blocked his way. He couldn't see the man's face, which made the whole situation ever so creepy. Oh dear, he was in trouble, wasn't he? the angel thought and tried to think of a way to get past the stranger without using his celestial abilities.

But before he could say or do anything rash, he heard the man chuckle and say, “are you lost, darling?” in a familiar voice. He sighted in relief when he recognized Crowley, but he still felt like being the prey in this play. It must be the adrenaline still running through the veins of his mortal body, the angel mused. He never was afraid of Crowley and never would be, but at this moment he could empathize with mortals who met the demon for the first time: His face was still lost in shadows and his serpent eyes glowed eerily in the darkness, which underlined the spooky feeling of a foggy night in London. Then the anger took over. “What in god's name where you thinking, Crowley? You nearly gave me a heart attack with your stunt!” he grunted, when the demon reached him. “I could ask you the same thing, you know?” the demon drawled, while scanning the angel's disguise from top to bottom. At least this time the demon's eyes weren't covered by his sunglasses. “Ah, yes, I .. I can explain ... that" Aziraphale stammered with suddenly flaming cheeks and consciously took his fedora off, while staring ashamed at his shoes. “I .. I thought ..” he murmured, but had no idea how he could explain why he secretly stalked his friend at night through London. “Oh dear, heaven help me", he whispered desperately out of habit and tried to come up with _anything_ to explain his unforgivable behavior. Suddenly he felt fingertips under his chin, which pushed his face gently upwards until he looked into Crowley's stunning eyes. “Why not me? You still look to heaven for help, after everything they did do you .. or tried to. I'm the only one who was always there for you, angel. Don't I deserve you more than they do?” the demon asked pointedly and the truth in that took the angel's breath away. But what did he mean with the last question? “Crowley, how much did you drink tonight?” Aziraphale called out and brushed the demon's hand irritatedly away. The demon laughed out loud with an amused look in his eyes and started to circle the angel like he often did, but this time he felt like the demon kind of .. sized him up. Did the demon drink up the whole bar? the angel thought with a frantic beating heart, while he self-consciously stepped back until he felt the wall behind him. “So what? Doesn’t change a thing, darling. I'm still chasing after you" Crowley cooed, while closing the distance between them slowly with a soft smile and putting his hands left and right on the wall Aziraphale was leaning on. Seemingly caged between the demon and the wall behind him, Aziraphale couldn't do anything else but stare at the demon, while shrouded in Crowley's familiar smell of brimstone, wine and the flowery scent of his plants. He tried to calm down his racing heart, but Crowley's closeness seemed to make every attempt futile. The reason must be his inexperience with such situations in general, the angel argued whilst noticing surprised that the demon's pupils were currently nearly as round as Aziraphale's. “I will give you anything you want, everything heaven denied you for so long" Crowley murmured in a low voice and a soft touch of the angel's face with his fingers. Despite the strange atmosphere between them and the angel's uneasiness thereof, Aziraphale couldn't help himself but lean into the warm touch of his beloved friend. “Just name it and it will be yours, my little angel" Crowley whispered, now scarcely audible while his other hand played unconsciously with a lock on the back of the angel's neck and Aziraphale .. was sure he just misheard the demon, after all his heart was bounding so loud that it was a wonder that he heard anything at all. But there it was again, the demon trying to distract him with that odd behavior, which was the reason for the situation he was in!

The angel scraped all of his courage together, locked his gaze with Crowley's and burst out with the frustration of the helpless: “Anything I want? How about telling me what happened since we averted the Apocalypse? I know something happened to you, why won't you just tell me about it?” He expected the demon to laugh it away or play the ignorant fool, but when he scrutinized his face, he saw suddenly fear in it. The demon took his hands away from the angel as if he burnt himself, and immediately averted his eyes. Startled at that raw emotion and mourning the loss of warm hands already, Aziraphale started to reach for Crowley, but at the same time the demon backed away from him. “My dear, please talk with me. I just want to help you” he said in a (hopefully) calming voice, but the demon went firmly out of reach. “Drop it, angel" the demon drawled, and an angry glint started to appear in his eyes. “But .. I'm worried about you! Something is going on and ..” he tried again, when the demon cut in with “nothing isss '"going on". I said drop it, will you? And what gave you the idea that _you_ can help me? You are after all the reason this isss happening!” his friend hissed, before he seemed to register what he just said and shot the angel a guilty look. But the damage was done and Aziraphale flinched back as if he had been hit. His mouth opened in shock, but no words came past his lips. He was the reason Crowley was so restless, so anxious? the angel thought incredulously. Oh God, what did he do? Now it was Aziraphale who turned away and tried to flee the situation, because after that revelation and this horrible night he couldn't handle anything anymore, least of all an impulsive demon who he understood less and less. Before he had the chance to miracle himself into his haven, he felt a hand close around his right upper arm. When he looked back, he saw Crowley's determinate face directly behind him, who seemed to search his own with a desperate look in his eyes. The angel looked away and tried to wrench himself free, but the demon's hold was like iron. “Aziraphale, pleassse don't go. Of course, it isn't your fault, it isss mine and mine alone”, the demon urgently said and started to pull the angel gently but relentlessly around to face him. “Let me go, Crowley” the angel shouted in a distraught voice and he felt the demon freeze. Enough was enough and he needed time to .. he didn't even know for what but crying seemed like a good start. “No no, pleassse don't do this! We can go to my place and I will tell you what I can!”, Crowley said hastily, but the angel looked pointedly at the demon's hand on his arm and after a few seconds he felt his friend's grip reluctantly loosened. Aziraphale wrenched himself free and with a last look at the demon and a whispered “you already did" he spread his white wings and vanished into the night as fast as he could, his fedora lying forgotten in a dark corner of the street.

\--

Crowley stood before the Turin Cathedral, which was illuminated by moonlight and tried to concentrate on the upcoming duty and his involuntary role in it. In his opinion it wasn't important at all, because Armageddon would proceed, whether the Shroud of Turin[1] would persist or not. It was the symbolism of this deed that counted, at least Beelzebub wouldn't shut up about “symbolism and their impact, bla bla" every time they talked about this, the demon thought with an eye roll. Demons were always so full of drama, it seemed like an occupational disease they got when falling from heaven in the most dramatic way, Crowley thought with a grin. Sometimes he wished he was the exception to this rule, especially when dealing with his angel. He didn't saw or heard from Aziraphale since their fight two weeks ago and he couldn't handle the distance very well. He missed the fussy angel with every fiber of his being and he could kick himself for losing his tranquility during that damned night so fast. In all honesty, his tranquility was lost the minute he noticed his flame entering the bar. He recognized him immediately and it was a mystery for him why Aziraphale bothered with a disguise at all. He spaced out from the conversation with Lillith[2] soon enough and tried very hard to suppress a fond smile while watching his angel trying to be inconspicuously. Lilith of course wasn't amused at all when she noticed his inattention and gave him a preaching about politeness and the danger of flirting with the enemy. She was thousands of years too late for _that_ talk, after all she was the one who told Crowley about the kind guardian angel in the first place. Their friendship was as old as his love for Aziraphale was and she knew exactly who that “enemy" in the bar across from them was. But it was their thing to make fun of serious matters, because it kept them sane enough to survive the next day. Lillith often called Adam her “ex-husband with one eyebrow, who couldn't tell the difference between a snake and a slug" while he talked about his newest failure in finally confessing his love for the angel. When Aziraphale left the bar, she shot him a pitying look and waved him away with a smile, knowing well that he wasn't good company when his mind was occupied by his flame.

He was thrilled to hear Aziraphale's reasons for shadowing him, because it was usually the other way around. His excitement and the consumed alcohol got the better of him and he couldn't resist to 1. secretly follow his flame through the dark streets and show him how a proper stalk looked like and 2. throw himself at the angel like the lovesick fool he was. Thank Satan he didn't try anything truly inappropriate, particularly when his angel looked so damned attractive in these unfamiliar cloths. Oh hell, he really hoped Aziraphale didn't notice that this wasn't just a stupid game of a drunk demon, but his true feelings bleeding through. Feelings of love with a little bit of codependency, a whiff of obsession and a streak of jealousy. Ironically, in love Crowley indeed matched the stereotypical presentations of demons. And then it happened again, like so often nowadays: He lashed out like a wild animal when cornered by Aziraphale's questions. He knew the angel meant well, but Crowley had to say anything to veil the truth about his deal with the devil from Aziraphale. He nourished the hope his angel would still appear the next day in St. James, but except for some ducks no one was there. He accepted the sudden disappearance of his friend as punishment for the things he said – well, he had no other choice cause he literally couldn't find him anywhere. At least Aziraphale left his bookshop with a note that he was alright but needed time for himself elsewhere, otherwise the demon's fear of losing the angel again would go berserk. His nightmares went nonetheless from bad to worse during those weeks and there nearly wasn't a night he didn't dream about a certain angel dying in a burning bookshop, with no way to do anything about it. Aziraphale didn't know anything about that and why would he tell him anyway? It would only lead to uncomfortable questions about their relationship and end in ultimate rejection, both things the demon couldn't deal with right now when Armageddon was on earth's doorstep and he was the one to figuratively open that door.

Which brought his thoughts back to the task at hand: Waiting for the shroud and then destroying it. Before he was able to do his part, he did have to tempt a monk into sin, so he would be susceptible to blackmail into bringing the shroud out of the damned chapel. When the demon arrived in Turin and went to the Cathedral hours before, he knew exactly who that man would be: He saw him sitting on a bench and talk with a woman, while he emitted all kind of sinful feelings. Oh, he knew that situation well, it was child's play to bring the man and woman with a few whispers and visions into doing what they anyway wanted to do, but holy promises on one side and respecting those on the other side always prevented it. The irony wasn't lost on him, but it got him what he needed. After committing the sin of lust, the monk was so eager for atonement he didn't question Crowley's origin in the slightest and really believed he talked to an angel. Well, the illusion of a blue-eyed man with white locks helped for sure, the demon thought with a little smile. He looked up when seeing the monk coming through the dark towards him, the burial shroud ducked away under one of his arms. The demon straightened his back and tried to look like his innocent angel would when he was doing something “good”. The monk halted with red cheeks before him and tried to reign in his frantic breathing. Crowley waited impatiently until the mortal gained his ability to speak back and rambled about how sorry he was, and all that stuff people said when they thought their sins would be forgiven. The demon tried very hard to suppress the eye roll he felt coming, when the monk finally put the linen shroud solemnly into his hands. After repeating his promise, that the monk’s sin was now forgiven and the shroud would just be blessed and immediately returned into its airtight case, the monk went finally away. Crowley let the illusion fall away and miracle himself into an abandoned house near Rome, where he unfurled the shroud on top of a black painted altar. The Satanists had already lighted the room with hundreds of candles and stood ready for doing their part. When he stepped back around the crowd, they surrounded the altar with hushed whispers and started to film the Shroud with their phones. Crowley sighted and again asked himself why hell was such a stickler for details, before he lighted the shroud with a snap of his fingers and turned around, not wanting to see any flames now. Soon everyone would know what happened to the Shroud of Turin, the first sign of the divine war coming soon .. blessed be the Internet, Crowley thought, while trying to ignore the sound of burning linen behind him.

\--

Gabriel stood in Aziraphale's bookshop and scrutinized his surroundings with an arched eyebrow. He visited the principality’s shop before and looked shortly through the books there, but never understood why Aziraphale bothered with human artefacts such as these at all. It was like collecting things an ape made throughout its history, completely irrelevant and boring. Especially when this ape destroyed his environment, hurt and enslaved his own kind, tried to kill every other being on the planet and still thought it was good enough to be worth saving. Well, Gabriel once thought that too, long ago when he was the protector of Israel and meet mortals like Daniel or the Virgin Mary. But god's creation was basically like Lucifer, the Morningstar: Once crown of creation, beautiful and bright, before vanity and pride took over and turned him into something unrecognizable. Well, the divine war would solve that problem, one way or another. For his current problem however Gabriel hadn't a solution, or even an explanation ready: He couldn't find Aziraphale, which shouldn’t be possible. Angels were after all connected to each other and Archangels knew how to find their brothers and sisters at any given moment, if necessary. Yet there were rumors in heaven about some dark methods, which may be able to disguise the whereabouts of a celestial being on earth. Gabriel had discarded such ideas with a scoff when he heard them the first time, but now it didn't seem that farfetched. Thank the Almighty, the archangel also had his special methods for finding a straying angel.

Gabriel straightened his suit, closed his eyes and let the room's stored feelings roam free around his form. All kind of positive and negative feelings surrounded him then, which wasn't a surprise given the number of humans entering the bookshop. A disdainful look appeared on the angel's face and he miracled himself up into Aziraphale's flat, where the stored feelings got more clearer: there was happiness, melancholy, love and sadness – the last one the most obvious. When Gabriel opened his eyes and closed himself off to the feelings, he suddenly got nearly overwhelmed by the scent of brimstone in the air. A demon was here, very often and quiet recently and the Archangel knew exactly who that foul being was. What a shame that hell got him before he could have a “business conference" with the serpent of Eden, the angel thought enraged. He called Uriel, who appeared shortly after beside him with a questioning look on her face. Uriel was in many ways like Aziraphale – specifically in her love for poetry and books, but also in her ease of mind and her fierceness - but she wasn't restricted by unnecessary pity for lesser beings. “Find out what Aziraphale did or where he went in the past when he was .. sad. If you still can't find him at these places, check every acquaintance of his in the last year" Gabriel said with a frown and looked up towards the other archangel. Uriel stared at him with confusion and an arched eyebrow, before she noted slowly and went her way. He didn't care what Uriel or anybody else thought about his methods, if the angels followed his rules and didn’t question his plans. That was another reason why he had to find the Principality, an angel disobeying Gabriel so openly could be a dangerous risk and could lead to more angels’ starting to think on their own.

Well, now was time to get this demonic stench out of the principality's sanctuary once and for all, the angel thought grimly and consecrated the flat and the bookshop below. The filthy seducer would get what he deserved when he dared to come near Aziraphale again and Gabriel would gladly inform the angel about the sudden death of the vicious serpent, when he eventually found his wayward angel.

\--

Drake was sitting on the floor of another hotel room and furiously wrote something down on the surface, while a thunderstorm announced itself outside. She hadn't had time to get papers before the episode started and couldn't stop writing until it was over, regardless if she was prepared or not. That was the reason why she was currently writing with her lipstick on the floor, until the voices in her mind stopped whispering. It was like that since she was a little girl, she remembers that her father often went furious when she unconsciously wrote on walls, tablecloths, books or her own skin, before psychiatrists told him she couldn't control that urge and it was a kind of OCD based on a supposed childhood trauma. It saved her from further violence, but there was nonetheless no real explanation (at least nonacceptable) for that form of condition and she went from one psychiatric ward to the next, because no previous treatment could help her. It got worse when the doctors focused on _what_ she was writing about during her episodes. Her writing involved dark secrets, crimes and vicious thoughts of people physically close to her. It was terrible for her to know such things about strangers and her fear of other people was escalating at that time. On top of that many doctors and nurses were convinced that Drake was – despite her young age and restricted possibilities - spying on them and trying to use that information against them. Some thought her dad put her up to do that, but he vanished the moment she went stationary and there was no one else to blame.

And then two knights, a dark and a bright one, came around to safe her from her captors, or at least that was what her childlike simplicity thought was happening then. Later she could remember that two women visited her in the hospital and told her they had a special home for people like her. It sounded rather ominous, even to a child like her, but everything was better than the hate and fear she sensed when other patients looked at her. She left, accompanied by the two strange women, who didn't seem to have any thoughts at all.

The voices vanished and her mind was once again her own. She sighted relieved, tossed away the lipstick she wouldn't put on again and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Damned those stupid whispers, this plan of god could go to hell, she thought exhausted while lying face-down on her writings. “God wouldn't be pleased to hear such words from you, my child" a voice said above her, but Drake couldn't bring herself to care, even when it was god herself speaking to her that moment. “..n't care", she murmured and hoped despite her experience that whoever was with her right now, would go away if she ignored it long enough. There was no reply, but she heard a snap of fingers and suddenly felt reinvigorated and light as a feather. She sat slowly up and leaned against the wall marked with her writings, while she locked her gaze with the woman across from her. “Thank you. Do I know you?", Drake said, while wondering at the familiarity of the beings voice. The entity smiled at her, but it didn't reach her eyes. “You do. My name is Michael".

[1]The **Shroud of Turin** is a linen cloth, which shows the negative image of a man. Many believe it is the image of Jesus and he wore this burial shroud after his cruxification. Historians and scientists think it is a medieval creation. In 1390 wrote a bishop about the shroud being a forgery and that a local artist confessed it. The shroud is currently in the Chapel of the Holy Shroud (which includes the Turin Cathedral) in Turin, northern Italy.

[2] **Lilith** is a demon of Jewish Tradition and her name means “the night". Presumably based on the Sumerian myth of “the descent of Inanna” (ca. 3000 BCE) where a spirit appears as a dark maid, Lilith made it into Israelite Tradition and later into the Bible. In the Genesis Rabbah Lillith is Adam's first wife and she is made at the same time as Adam, not from his rib. But their marriage wasn't a lucky one, some medieval interpretations say because she wasn't (sexually) submissive towards Adam and wanted to be equal. She had to choose obedience or falling from Eden and so she became a demon rather than give up equality. That is just one interpretation for the character of Lillith, some other sources say that Lilith is a myth and nothing more.

In popular media, Lilith is often portrayed as a demon who seduces men and kills infants.


	5. A secret for the longest time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, there was too much to do in the last few weeks and no time for anything else. The chapter title is from the song "shameless" by Camila Cabello. Enjoy!

_I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth._

**Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (66;6;8)**

Aziraphale was sitting on a lovely bench in a garden full of herbs and different flowers, where a big weeping willow sheltered him from the rain currently pouring down. The angel loved to watch the rain and could do it for hours, because it was one of the few familiar things that existed before he came down to Earth. It had a very calming effect on the angel and he often tried to persuade Crowley to try it out, but the demon was never a big fan of water in general and just didn't had the patience for that kind of diversion. Beyond that, it remembered Aziraphale of their first meeting so many years ago. Dear god, that was such an awkward encounter, he thought, after thousands of years still embarrassed about his clumsiness during their talk. But in his defence: He didn't expect a _demon_ of all things approaching him in _Eden_ and casually talking with him about _god's_ _plan_. He was never good at improvisations or generally at talking with the enemy. That was the reason why he wasn't a diplomat but a guardian, one who defended and didn't argue about such things. Why god posted him on the Eastern Gate, although she knew about the serpent slithering down that way one day was truly ineffable.

He never questioned that before, but when he thought about his former life nowadays, he often found some things .. well, let's say questionable. Why did God sign him up for guard duty in the first place, when everyone knew he sucked at it? God made him, she knew his heart was just a bit too soft for striking down intruders mercilessly like expected. Oh yes, Crowley was right that he could be a bastard sometimes, but he wasn't one who approved of violence. Well, Aziraphale however was glad he was the one to guard that Gate, otherwise he wouldn't have met Crowley. It didn't change the fact that he also failed at his apple tree duty, so why was he even there that day? the angel mused and felt a headache coming. Or was it his incompetence that assured everything was happening according to the plan? He shook his head and abandoned all lingering thoughts about Eden, this time was long gone and daydreaming about it didn't help him in the slightest now. He stood up and went slowly through the rain towards Jasmine Cottage, where his Cocoa just happened to be ready. Which made him think about his cup and his precious bookshop he left behind three weeks ago. Well, most of all he missed Crowley and there wasn't a day where he didn't feel bad for leaving him like that. He missed the strangest things regarding the demon: His little smiles, his mischievous sense of humour, his smell, calling him “angel" in that soft voice of his and even the stupid Bentley, which was by now nearly as familiar for the angel as his bookshop was. It was in the end that horrible helpless feeling and his broken heart that drove him away, because everything was better than having to watch Crowley suffering and then hearing such accusations from his beloved when he tried to help. He knew that he couldn't hide away forever, but the charm around his neck would prevent anyone from finding him too soon. It was a special experiment Anathema accomplished months ago, when she tried to copy Adam's natural defensive mechanism.

After that strange night he didn't know how to behave towards the demon anymore. Well, it happened before that they were drunk – more often than he would like to admit – but Crowley never tried to tempt him _that_ way. It had to be the stress getting to his friend, which seemed to trigger his demonic nature. Like every demon, Crowley was very good at seducing mortals and why wouldn't he try to do that with an angel, when stress and alcohol blinded his mind? Yes, the angel thought with a heavy heart while entering Anathema's home, Crowley would never do it if he was of sound mind. His foolish heart regardless broke that night, because he was truly deeply in love with his friend and couldn't deal with Crowley faking any kind of attraction towards him, just to prove that he was good at what he did .. or as some cruel kind of distraction. He took his Cocoa between his hands and sat down with a sight, whilst looking out at the window and watching the rain nurturing the herbs and flowers of the witch's garden.

\--

“Something happened between them”, Anathema murmured to Newt, while both were sitting in Adam Young's living room and watched the children practice their school performance of Shakespeare's _Romeo_ _&_ _Juliet_. “Between whom?” Newt said, while he looked concentrated at the torn-up shirt in his hands, which he currently tried to stich. How Adam had accomplished to completely ruin his outfit within one day was still a mystery. “Aziraphale and Crowley. Seems like a lover's quarrel to me", Anathema shot her boyfriend a pointed look. Newt raised his head slowly and stared at her in disbelief. “You mean the _angel_ and the _demon_ are .. are ..” he stammered while searching for the right words. “.. in love? Crowley looks at Zira like my dad looks at my mom sometimes. It must be love then, right?” Anathema and Newt turned surprised around and stared at Adam, who seemed to have materialised behind them out of nowhere. “I still don't get it. It seems to make people do stupid things, like in this play" he said with the graveness of someone much older than 11 years old. That was the thing about Adam, sometimes he seemed to know much more about certain occurrences around him than any other and, for that matter, he knew exactly how to get what he wanted. Anathema was sure that had something to do with his hellish heritage, but she kept that to herself; restarting the tradition of witch hunts wasn't really her thing. But it would be wise to discuss the former antichrists development with the angel, just to be sure that Adam wouldn't grow horns when he was older, or something like that. Would be difficult to explain to his parents and the neighbourhood, Anathema mused. “Well, you can't really argue with that", the occultist said and reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair fondly, while Adam tried to get away with a squeak.

Suddenly the two adults were surrounded by children, who loudly argued about the foolishness of love. “Yes. And girls in love are always portrayed as damsels in distress who can’t do anything themselves. That's sexist!”, Pepper said that moment, while trying to ruffle Adam's hair as well. “And it makes people sad, or jealous! Why would anyone want that?” Brian throwed in and the other children shouted in agreement. No adult could argue and win against the logic of children, Anathema thought amused and shot Newt a fond smile, who was now playfully wrestling with Pepper. The other kids had grabbed the wooden swords and tried to sneak up behind them, but Newt turned around and looked at them with a mischievious smile while the children laughed in delight. Without attracting attention, Anathema went outside to sort out her thoughts. She had to buy a few things for the summoning tomorrow, and someone had to explain Adam's mom about the condition of his costume. And then there was the thing about the depressed angel currently residing in Jasmine Cottage. It wasn't her place to meddle with things she knew nearly nothing about .. although it seemed she knew more about Aziraphale's relationship with Crowley than the angel himself did. The kind angel made everyone near him feeling loved and safe but couldn't seem to think of the possibility that someone would love him in return. It really was like those dramatic love stories Shakespeare wrote about, Anathema thought to herself. Hopefully this one wouldn't turn out to be a tragedy with broken hearts and dead people.

\--

Crowley stood before A.Z. Fell & Co. and couldn't shake the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong. Which didn't make much sense, after all this was his angel's home and Crowley's haven when he needed to escape this mad world once again. Despite that, Aziraphale was off the pitch and hell wouldn't break its own deals. But he couldn't ignore this primeval intuition of fleeing immediate danger, which saved his life more often than he could count. He let his split tongue subtly taste the air around him and yes, there it was. The bitter taste of an angel's essence laid heavy in the air, but it wasn't Aziraphale's. It didn't matter which cologne his angel was putting on, he always smelled of old books, candles and something the demon could hardly describe, kind of sweet and difficult to resist. This smell was exactly the opposite and Crowley had the strong urge to buy a lolly, just to get that horrible taste off his tongue. He took a few steps towards the shop but backed off immediately when he felt like that night in the chapel in Paris. All right, it seemed like heaven was as resentful as always and still tried to take revenge for the Almostgeddon. _Shit!_ But why would they consecrate the bookshop? Crowley thought confused, turned around and left the area as fast as he could.

By the time the demon reached his Bentley, he had a strong suspicion and didn't know whether he should be relieved or afraid of those possible ramifications. Heaven didn't want to hurt Aziraphale now, because consecrated ground was for an angel like water for a fish. They obviously got the news about Crowley's newfound relationship with hell and its special terms and didn't want to just watch on the side-lines, but rather change the rules. The consecrated bookshop was meant for him, the demon thought grimly whilst driving through the city of London as fast as possible, but at least Aziraphale wasn't the one in danger. Still, heaven went against their contract and that was something which just couldn't be tolerated. Crowley would have to give up everything familiar soon, but he would be damned if the angels tried to take away the one thing he so desperately tried to keep. Aziraphale belonged to him and _only_ to him and either Gabriel accepted that fact or the demon would again avert Armageddon. “I need to talk to .. the prince of demons, the flying prince? Lord of .. midges?“ Crowley said to the radio expectantly, but no one answered. Dammit, why could he never remember Beelzebub's stupid titles? And by the way, Crowley thought with the biggest eye roll he could manage that moment, it was hilarious that hell was so paranoid, demons weren't allowed to use real names when calling, but titles or aliases. “Oh for hell's sake, the short one?“ he shouted irritated and tried to _not_ drive over every mortal who flipped him the finger, rude bastards. Suddenly a crackle could be heard from the radio and Beelzebub's voice displaced Freddie Mercury's. “What do you want?“ they drawled, while Crowley parked his Bentley into a parking space for disabled humans. “Your majesty, heaven already tries to break our deal. Gabriel is going after what is promised to me, for my .. assistance.“ The prince chuckled softly at that, which made the demon's hair stand on end. “Look at that. What is it about this angel, that everyone wants to get their hands on him?“ they asked slowly and their voice sounded suddenly interested. _Shit!_ “Maybe I should visit your pet and get to the bottom of that mystery myself?“ they asked pointedly and Crowley bit his lip to stop himself from saying something he would regret later. This was just punishment for his impertinence before, he thought to himself, while he tried to stay calm. The prince had no interest in Aziraphale beyond the fact that he was Crowley's weak spot. “I will talk to Gabriel, if he wants this war he has to retreat“ the prince said when there wasn't a reply from the demon and their voice was once more replaced by Mercury's.

Crowley relaxed his tensed-up body and leaned his head on the steering wheel, while he closed his eyes and thought for the 100th time how he had managed to end up in that situation. Well, it didn't matter anymore. He opened his eyes and put on his sunglasses, before he took his phone out of his jacket. No call from his angel, so he was still hiding away. Oh yes, Crowley knew well that he couldn't find Aziraphale on his own, because the angel was magically shielded. He tried to find him one week after he saw the angel's note in the bookshop – he indeed accepted the angel's distance, but 1. was one week long enough and 2. did the angel stop by and ask him, whether the demon was ok with a distance as long as that one? No, he didn't, so there wasn't a guilty conscience about searching for the angel to begin with and he had no qualm to ask Lillith for help when he noticed the angel must also have help to stay hidden. They even tried to summon Aziraphale, but nothing worked so far. But thank Satan the demoness had a whole underground network of supernatural spies, who currently searched for his missing angel. Crowley sighted, started the car and drove towards his flat, while breaking the speed limit and trying not to hurt anybody in the process.

\--

Lilith was the oldest woman walking the Earth and there wasn't a thing she didn't see or experience among humanity. Humans in general were a contradiction and so were her lessons learned while living as one of them. The first lesson she learned was about the importance of her physical appearance on Earth, because mortals based their society on such things. Her mortal form was dark skinned and female, both features which would have caused her restrictions, if she weren't a demon. She couldn't deal well with such rules, proof of that was her fall from heaven because she chose disobedience and questioning male authority over following heaven's sexist policy. She went to hell for the next thousand years and avoided human society as best as she could. Crowley was her opposite in that, and she couldn't understand why he would voluntarily spend his time up there or feel fondness for such horrible beings. She didn't know then that Crowley indeed liked humans, but his main reason to be on Earth however was the celestial entity she told him about in Eden. She remembers the guardian angel well, who was always kind to her and often stopped by when she had a new question about this strange garden. He was different from the aloof mannered guardians and it seemed she wasn't the only one not matching her destined role. When she met a serpent, who scouted the area and asked her about escape routes (he had to explain that concept more than once, until she understood it well enough) she told him about the Eastern Gate and Aziraphale, who wouldn't hurt the serpent when he needed to flee this place. She fell from heaven before she knew what the Serpent had in mind or whether her judgement of the guardian was correct, but it was Crowley who searched for her in hell after her second becoming. He found her in a dark pit, curled up in a corner with still smoking wings and a broken body. Since then Crowley and she were friends and there wasn't a century they didn't cause mischief in hell's name together.

She also experienced nearly all aspects of love during her long life and even fell for a mortal once. Love taught her the second lesson: Never go after someone you can't have. It was a war lost before it even began and would always end in agony. An important lesson a special demon still didn't seem to know of. A fact she learned on the hard way when she accidentally saw Crowley encircling an angel during one of Shakespeare's rehearsals. Lilith had a crush on Crowley then and was – veiled as a male, because she wanted be part of the play - leaning on the wooden frame behind them, while witnessing Crowley's shameless attempts at flirting with the enemy. First, she thought the demon was trying to tempt their foe with the goal to make him one of theirs. To tempt an angel to sin was one of the most difficult tasks and the award for accomplishing it was accordingly vast, although it wasn’t common at all for demons to use their own bodies for that. That assumption died a sudden and irrevocable death while watching the demon seeing nothing else but the funny little angel, who didn’t seem to notice _he_ was the temptation and the demon the one who got seduced. Crowley would be hanged by Lucifer personally if they found out the demon not only fell for an angel but was already that far gone. It seemed like temptation tempted the temptee, she thought while staring shocked at the blond angel. She recognised Aziraphale then and would have laughed out loud for probably being the one to get them together, if she hadn't been so jealous that moment. But she learned her lesson and soon saw Crowley as her friend and nothing more.

For Lilith romantic love was inherently based on two aspects: Power and control. It wasn't a question who that possessed in Crowley's forbidden relationship with Aziraphale; thank Satan the angel still didn't seem to know that fact and there was a possibility the angel wouldn't use that power over Crowley when he got aware. Such beings were the rarest of all and Crowley needed someone like that, cause otherwise this relationship would tear the demon apart. That and the fact that Crowley was dear to her were the reasons why she currently helped the demon in his search for the angel. Well, it seemed even hell agreed in Crowley having his angel nowadays, if he actively worked to guarantee Armageddon this time. Crowleys role in this Armageddon had to be a big one, because hell usually didn’t make deals with traitors, not even with someone who seemed to be immune to holy water. Well, in her opinion Judgement Day couldn’t come soon enough, humanity sealed their fate long ago. Their closely teamwork made her also aware how complicated the “friendship" of Crowley and his angel really was and that there was indeed one aspect she didn't think about, before agreeing to help her friend. Crowley was a demon like her and therefore not one who could deal well with being kept away from his desire, even when his love was the one to force that distance. When Crowley called her to ask for help, he was a total mess. He even broke his sunglasses in his fury and desperation and destroyed half of his furnishment, with the only exception of his plants. Would the angel ever understand such demonic moods, or would he afraid run away when being confronted with such evil feelings? And that was just the top of the iceberg, beneath the surface was a mountain consisting of jealousy and possessive feelings an angel knew not much about. And what about the angel's essence? God's servants were blessed beings and therefore their core, which could be seen in their unprotected form and felt at the base of their wings, were as poisonous for demons as holy water was. Well, Crowley decided Aziraphale was the one thing he couldn’t live without and who was she do question that, just because she wouldn’t pursue a relationship where she wasn’t the one in control?

Lillith shooed her philosophical thoughts away and tried to concentrate at the task at hand: Finding out what her informant within the occultist community knew about a certain angel. “.. matches the description, but I don't want her to get into trouble. She is a kind girl and member of one of the most influential covens in America" she said in hushed whispers and looked like she would rather be somewhere else. The demoness felt her fear and guilt like a perfume in the air, but ignored the urge to use that and put a reassuring hand on the shorter woman's shoulder. “Do not worry, Raven. No one is in trouble, we just have to know where the angel is” she said, while smiling down on the woman next to her. “All right. Do you need something else?” Raven looked upon her and smiled shyly back. Lillith couldn't help but adore the witch, who was – despite her innocent appearance – a cunning and dangerous being, when the situation called for it. Maybe she understood Crowley's obsession with Aziraphale after all; looks were truly deceiving and who knew what depths an angel could hide behind their holier-than-thou attitude. “No. You did well" she told the witch, before she turned around and dialled Crowley's number. “I found your unicorn, you stupid fool" she murmured to herself with a smile, whilst she waited for the demon to pick up.

\--

At the same moment, 134 km away, Aziraphale shot up from his seat on the window and scanned alarmed his surroundings, senses on high alert. He put the cup quietly on the table and stepped further into the room, while trying to discern the reason why his intuition was screaming “danger!” at him. He didn't have to wait long before he heard a flap of big wings and Gabriel leaning on the wall across from him, while casually blocking the only way out. Oh for heaven's sake, Aziraphale thought irritated, while scanning the Archangel's hands and grey suit preventively for hidden weapons. When he looked up, he saw Gabriel's look of reproach and couldn't help but roll his eyes at the irony, which made the archangel frown in open disapproval. Aziraphale miracled his cup into his hands, because he really needed the Cocoa for his nerves right now but couldn't risk turning his back on his former associate. Who knew what the archangel was planning this time? “Aziraphale, I know we had a conflict of opinion. But now that it's sorted out, we must serve heaven once more" Gabriel said, business as usual and looked expectedly at the principality. Aziraphale was at first sure he just misheard the archangel, but the look of expectancy didn't vanish from the angel's face. “You .. what?” said the angel bewildered and stared at the archangel. Or was that meant to be sarcasm? Aziraphale mused, then scolded himself for never grasping the range of meaning in human speech like Crowley did .. and seemingly Gabriel. “I don't understand your implications, Gabriel. What do you want?” the principality asked after a minute, while taking a sip of his Cocoa and tried to stay calm. Gabriel raised his eyebrows at that and straightened his form, before he slowly came two steps closer and held both of his hands up in surrender. At least the archangel had noticed that he wasn't welcome here, even when he seemed to have forgotten the reason why. “You are an angel and therefore under my jurisdiction. I want you back in heaven, where you belong" Gabriel said in a stern voice that usually didn't allow objection.

Yet it came, because Aziraphale was indeed a wayward angel, who spent the last months doubting everything he so long believed in. “No” was the angel's simple response, which caused Gabriel to widen his eyes in surprise. “No?! You can't say “no"!” the archangel called out sorely shocked. “It's your god given destiny to fight along your brothers and sisters! It's blasphemy to think otherwise!” God’s favourite shouted scandalized, while Aziraphale took surprised a step back at such an outburst. He never saw Gabriel losing his temper, least of all because of something so mediocre like the disobedience of an expelled angel. It spoke much about the archangel's self-importance and his belief in heaven's omnipotence to think this would work they way he wanted, after all they put him (Crowley) on trial and tried to dispatch his (Crowley's) very core. Ridiculous that he still had hopes to be someday that kind of “right" angel, Aziraphale thought to himself, when there truly wasn't anything he would like to be less. He thought about leaving the room then and there, but Gabriel suddenly stepped into the principality's personal space and grabbed the collar of his coat. “It's that filthy demon, isn't it? He has no right to make a claim to you, you will always belong to heaven” the archangel said with firm conviction, while his violet eyes shot Aziraphale a deprecating stare. “And how dare you to let the serpent get so close, have you no shame? He is the enemy and you are his price for Armageddon!” he hissed, while he tightened his grip on the angel's coat. That was the moment Aziraphale had enough and he pushed Gabriel with a powerful stroke of wings out of his personal bubble. The archangel came on the door to a stop and stared at the principality, as if seeing him for the first time. Aziraphale put his Cocoa on the table and planted himself in front of Gabriel, before he fixed the archangel with a livid glare. “I belong to no one but myself. You made that clear when you first tried to execute me and then cast me out from heaven” the angel said furiously, while Gabriel seemed to have temporarily lost his ability to speak. “For this very reason I decide what I do and with whom and it frankly doesn't matter what heaven thinks about any of that. And Armageddon won't happen again, at least Crowley would be the last one to help you or Hell in recreating it” Aziraphale said angrily, before he noticed what he actually said a moment before and added sheepishly “not that I do _anything_ with _anyone_ .. I mean to say .. oh dear.”

The angel looked shortly up with flaming cheeks, while thinking that hopefully Gabriel hadn't noticed the unintended implication. But of course, Gabriel had, and he snapped that moment out of his stupor, fixed his cloths slowly and said with a pitiful look in his eyes: “You are more far gone than I expected. But don't worry, the serpent's influence will soon vanish.” The archangel snapped his fingers and the telly behind the angel came to life. Aziraphale turned alarmed around and had no idea what that was now about. To distract me, the angel thought in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Crowley's, and he looked immediately back at Gabriel, but the angel was still standing at the door. He once more turned around and watched confused at the screen, until he recognized the Shroud of Turin being filmed, while laying on a dark pedestal. The confusion turned to shock, when he watched the Shroud catching fire and the humans surrounding it celebrating it's blight. But that didn't make any sense, why would Hell burn a holy artefact? It wasn't uncommon that demons destroyed religious artefacts, but this act was advertised publicly and more a declaration than anything else. Demons performing signs so openly was the first step to .. _oh_ _no_. He still stared at the screen when Gabriel stepped close behind him and whispered in his right ear: “You seem to have much to discuss with your demon. I know you will do the right thing in the end.” The archangel vanished, while Aziraphale tried to not give into feelings of confusion and sadness. He tried to persuade himself that Gabriel had lied and staged the act of burning the Shroud to punish him or make him distrust Crowley. But he discarded that through nearly immediately, he really wasn't worth such a charade. It had to be true what the archangel told him, at least the things about Armageddon; he was sure the things he said about Crowley came from the ancient hate of demons and were nothing but baseless accusations. Yes, the angel reasoned while shaking off the sadness and confusion, the demon wouldn't give up Earth and his Bentley for anything.

After mentally sorting out that fear, the angel concentrated his focus on the problem at hand: God seemed to want her divine war by all available means and Aziraphale doubted he and Crowley could avert that event a second time. But would they ever know, if they didn't try it? Well, there had to be another Antichrist somewhere, most certainly already under Heaven and Hell's control if they wanted to prevent another almost Armageddon. Changing the antichrists mind was therefore most likely out of question, they had to find another way to cross Gods plan once more. Oh dear, he thought with a sight, it always seemed like he had eternal time and now it was running through his hands like precious water in a desert. With a last look at the telly Aziraphale went out of the Cottage and walked determined towards the next bus station to Central London.


End file.
